Screaming
by shortierockette
Summary: "Zack's been screaming quietly inside his own head, screaming himself raw and bleeding, screaming in silence for four years now. And he just can't hold it in any longer." rated for mentions of gore and creepiness. zangst!


**Well... not much I can say except that I wrote this at 9pm in maybe half an hour, and despite careful editing, there's bound to be a couple mistakes; don't judge me! O.O**

**More Zangst, because I love our Zackaroni, and Hart Hanson is an idiot. No matter how the show ends, I will always stick to my belief that Zack will find redemption and come back to us!**

**I own nothing, not even Eric Millegan (sadly...)**

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After he's finally released from the looney bin, the first thoughts on Zack Addy's mind aren't how he's going to regain his doctorate, or his position at the Jeffersonian, or the trust of his friends- they're wondering where he's going to sleep. He knows that Hodgins and Angela, along with their new baby, have moved out of the mansion, leaving him garage-less. Zack isn't expecting anyone to really want to even talk to him, so he'd thoroughly surprised when the couple freely offer him their guest room, at least for a few weeks until they can find him a space of his own; much less to do so happily- joyfully, even. Before he knows it, he's setting his duffel-full of the few items he was allowed to keep with him in the hospital on the bed, staring dumb-founded at the boxes around him, all labeled "_ZACK'S_" in thick sharpie. His thoughts are now replaced with _'they kept it, they kept everything'_, and a few weeks turns into however long they want him around; which turns out to be quite a long time.

The first few weeks back at the Jeffersonian are rough, to be frank. Having been stripped of his doctorate, he's been demoted back to grad-assistant- but, as he is assured by Brennan, he'll be able to pass the exams a second time with ease, and he'll once again be Dr Addy. No one talks about what's happened, what he's done; the group morphs back together and they're whole once again. Almost. Zack is nothing but a realist, and recognizes just how far they have to go to repair the cracks- no, the _chasms_- in their friendships. But worrying needlessly just isn't for Zack. Cases and exam practice and therapy and _life_ just keep him too busy to worry. For a while, he's too nervous to say much of anything, much less crack a smile; it isn't until one night, where they're all curled up on the couches eating lukewarm take-out and going over the latest case, that someone tells a joke and Zack finds himself laughing, the sound alien in his mouth. Then the others join in laughing, laughing so hard they can barely talk and tears run down their cheeks, until they can't even remember what the joke was in the first place or even who told it. It's not much, but it's a start.

The anti-depressants have been reduced since he's been released, and the pain medication for his hands is only needed occasionally, making his sleep considerably easier. The nightmares have grown easier as time has gone on, though they've never disappeared completely, and Zack doubts they ever will. Sometimes they're small and easy to brush off. Sometimes they're rougher and leave a slight tremble in his aching hands. Sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat, biting his lip to keep from screaming. But, as of now, he only confides them in Sweets, with whom he still attends mandatory therapy twice a week. Most of the time when he dreams, it's of Private Toby Adams, the soldier he'd befriended over in Iraq. Despite Zack's oddities, the soldiers had liked him, respected him, even; they weren't the Jeffersonian team, but they made being so very far from home bearable. Most of the time, when he dreams, it's of the last time he saw Toby, right before he left for his finally patrol, smiling and shooting a sloppy salute over his shoulder at Zack as he ran to catch up with the three other soldiers accompanying him. Actually, that's not true; the _real_ last time Zack ever saw Toby was when he was laid out on the exam table, after the hummer hit a mine and blew him and the other soldiers inside to bits. It's the first time Zack's had to run out on an autopsy and wretch his guts out since college; because all he can think about it is how Toby's cocky smile and his friendly personality made anyone feel at ease, how he possessed age-old wisdom for a person so young, and how his tales about his adventures both at home and abroad made the time pass. How Toby was from Georgia and hated the cold- how he would've hated that cold metal table, if he wasn't a pile of life-less flesh and bone.

Life goes on, and Zack copes. The Jeffersonian copes. They learn how to be a team again, a family. And almost three-and-a-half months later, things are just so much _better_, and Zack knows he's finally home again. Until the nightmare.

_It's simpler than the other nightmares, almost calm. He calmly stands in a cool, dark room, and lined up before him, calmly, in neat rows of six are every person he's ever loved. His parents, his __grandparents, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews, child-hood friends and the few people he'd managed to befriend in high school and college, his friends from Iraq,long-dead and rotted away, including Toby; the front row is composed entirely of the Jeffersonian team, even Angela and Hodgins' baby, tucked calmly in her arms. Then Gormogon appears, calm and as put-together as always, and proceeds to calmly cut out of the hearts of each and every person with a scalpel, as they calmly stand there and let him. And when the cannibal hands Zack the scalpel, he takes it from him, calmly, and runs the blade along his own chest, slicing through flesh and fat, muscle and bone, and calmly removes his own heart, handing it over to his Master._

It's more horrifying than any nightmare he's had before, not because of the violence, not because of the gore, not the sheer trauma of it all; it's the clarity that makes him wrench upright in bed, ear-shattering and heart-breaking screams tearing from his throat. Because every minute, every _second_ of the dream is so real, and unlike the others, he doesn't realize it's a dream until he wakes up; and even afterward, it's difficult to tell the difference between dreaming and awake. He tries to stop his screams, stop them before they wake up Hodgins and Angela and the baby, but finds that he can't. Zack's been screaming quietly inside his own head, screaming himself raw and bleeding, screaming in silence for _four years_ now. And he just can't hold it in any longer.

It only takes seconds before the screams alert his friends, but it seems like hours, weeks, months before they race into his bedroom. Angela enters first, Hodgins running off to check on the baby, who'd have to be deaf not to have woken up. The lights fly on and she stares, shocked for a moment, before realizing he's unharmed- physically, at any rate. She doesn't ask any questions, just sits on the bed and pulls Zack into her arms, hugging him tightly against her chest. His scarred and broken hands are tangled in his hair, clenched so tight they burn, and he just keeps _screaming_, even though Angela is rubbing his back and cooing unintelligibly in his ear, holding him like he's three instead of almost thirty. The rational part of his brain tells him all this screaming it pointless, and will only succeed in getting him sent back to the nut-house. But he can't stop, he just _can't_. The screams keep ripping out of him, the tears keep pouring down his cheeks, the sobs keep choking from his throat. If he had any dignity left, he'd be thoroughly embarrassed to realize that he's soiled his sheets. But Zack lost his last shred of self-respect a long time ago; Gormogon made sure of that. So he keeps screaming, keeps crying, keeps rocking back-and-forth and tearing at his hair while Angela tries desperately to calm him down.

When Hodgins comes back, he's got a very confused, but mercifully quiet baby in one hand and Sweets on his cell in the other. He sits down on the other side of the bed, listening intently as the psychologist tells him what to do, his eyes never leaving his best friend. In the end, it's not Angela's soothing words or Hodgins following Sweets' instructions, or even the phone being pressed against his ear and the shrink talking to him gently, that finally make the screaming cease. Eventually, Zack's throat just gives out, the screams dying away before he can stop them himself. The next hour and a half is spent just like they spent the previous; Angela's arms curled tightly around him with his head tucked between her jaw and shoulder, his hand gripped so tightly in Hodgins' that he can almost feel the fragile bones creak. Zack can sense their hands fluttering around, moving from his matted hair, to his bended back, to his locked limbs, to his sweaty forehead, trying to give him some comfort. It's shouldn't help, nothing should help, not after he's been through. But, somehow, their presence is just enough to keep Zack calm.

The next few weeks are spent with more therapy and an increased dose of anti-depressants, along with sleeping pills. Zack hates being drugged, and he hates being analyzed by shrinks, and he hates having to take time away from the Jeffersonian to deal with both. But somehow, he doesn't mind nearly as much as he might have before. Because, rather than hindering, his late-night/early-morning breakdown seems to have actually helped. The team finally seems to understand what he feels, finally seems to clear away those metaphorical eggshells they've been tip-toeing on for ages, finally seems to realize that ignoring the past doesn't make it go away; only accepting does that. And for Zack, the screaming finally stops; and the healing can finally begin.

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**Hope nobody minded my little OC action; if anyone's interested in actually reading about a living Toby, review and I'll think about writing a season 2-3 filler with him in it.**

**Oh, and yes, this is my way of tricking you into reviewing. Muhahahahaha...**

**Elf-out!**


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